Home
by camiferz
Summary: In 1863, Damon Salvatore left home to defend the South, nearly losing his own life along the way. Nearly. War LITERALLY changes people. 145 years later, about to crumble under the weight of his past, he seeks the solace of home. There, their paths cross.
1. Chapter 1: In Transition

_Hi everyone! This is my very first TVD fanfic and I'd really appreciate feedback and constructive criticism! :)_

_Disclaimer: I do not own The Vampire Diaries.  
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><p><strong>Home<strong>

**Extended Summary**  
>In the year 1863, Damon Salvatore left home to so bravely defend the South, nearly losing his own life along the way… nearly. When he regains consciousness in a ravaged battlefield, he discovers he is in transition. War changes people… literally. 145 years later, about to crumble under the weight of his past, Damon decides to seek the solace of home. And there, his path crosses hers.<p>

It was the nit and grit of the Civil War that shook Damon to his very core. It was there he learned to put his walls up and to never let his guard down, shutting out any and every chance to show emotion. It was there, in the midst of war, that Damon realized this was the _only _way he would be able to protect himself.

**CHAPTER 1: IN TRANSITION**

**1863**

The midnight moon cast an eerie light on the terrors of battle as the wounded, dying and dead littered the forest floor. Groaning, injured men were hoisted onto what few benches were there. Surgeons were amputating arms and legs and probing bullets from flesh. A number of townsfolk milled about, ignoring the gore and tending to the hurt. The air was thick with the stench of blood.

A woman in a dark hooded cloak moved silently among the people. Her hair hung loosely around her face in curls as she dipped her head down to feed off a man's bloodied neck. She pulled back and the protruding veins that mapped across her face slowly disappeared. "Best thing about war time," she smirked to herself, "endless, anonymous blood."

Damon Salvatore knew he was about to die. Despite the frigid air, his black curls were damp with sweat, matting his forehead. His bare chest, slick with blood and perspiration, was heaving. He'd been shot, not long ago and he was starting to believe he wasn't bulletproof after all. He smirked inwardly at the thought. The bandages that were wrapped around his midsection did little to stop the wounds from bleeding. '_At least I'll die having fought to protect my home_,' he thought, '_my life will have meant something.'_Tears began to well in his eyes but he wouldn't allow them to fall. If his father taught him one thing, it was that men did not cry.

She wore a look of indifference as she strode through the casualties, glancing at each dying man listlessly. A mischievous smile crept up on her lips as one young man happened to catch her eye. He was beautiful. His face was flawless; his body looked as if it'd been sculpted by gods. The irregular beat of his heart became more and more prominent the closer she got. He was practically at death's doorstep. '_That's an unfortunate waste_,' she thought, sighing.

His ears caught the airy breath of a sigh. He was, after all, overly familiar with the sound of disappointment. It shook him from his stupor. With his last ounce of strength, he opened his eyes a fraction of an inch. In an instance, he was entranced by her eyes. They were a hazel brown that radiated such warmth; warmth that could probably thaw the coldest of hearts.

He took her by surprise when he slowly opened his eyes. Behind the captivating steel blue shade, she could see so much emotion; longing, regret… innocence. In a split second she had bit the skin on her wrist and lowered her arm to the man's lips. A voice at the back of her head advised her against it but she dismissed the feeling with a _'What the hell.'_

His brows furrowed in confusion. He couldn't hear anything above the sound of his own heart thumping in his ears as her blood ran down his throat. Her delicate hands gently cradled his face and then he felt the violent twist of his neck as it snapped and everything went black.

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><p>It was late morning when Damon regained consciousness. His eyes fluttered open and he sat up with a sharp intake of breath. He was on the bench, the same place he was the night before, but now the site was completely void of life. He concluded that the site must have fallen victim to a surprise attack, because the grove was an indescribable mass of mangled bodies, bloated horses and various weapons strewn every which way.<p>

His head throbbed menacingly as he tried to piece together the events of that night.

_Am I dead?_

_Who was that woman?_

_What did she do to me?_

_...Why?_

The only thing he could remember were her eyes. He'd _never _forget those eyes.

His brows furrowed then his eyes grew wide in realization. His hands found their way to the blood-stained bandages wrapped around his torso, unwinding them only to find perfectly unscathed skin where the gunshot wound once was. He ran a hand through his tangled mess of hair and noticed a ring on his middle finger. It was big and old-fashioned, like an heirloom. Without a second thought, he went with the gut feeling that told him it was imperative that he never take it off.

Damon threw his head back in frustration. He felt off. He was having a very bad migraine, the sunlight made his eyes burn, and his throat felt bone dry. He shook his head and clumsily willed himself to stand, knocking over tables of equipment and tripping over strewn bodies. He stopped cold in his tracks when he felt it. He felt it calling out to him, seducing him. His heart beat erratically as he glanced down at a man's corpse by his feet. The man was a soldier, his gray shell jacket stained red by a shot to the chest. Damon clenched his jaw, but found himself in a trance. He raised his hands, red with the man's blood, to his mouth and the second the blood touched his lips, both pain and power coursed through his entire body. He groaned in torturous agony. Veins ran across his face in desperate need; sharp, blood-stained fangs emerged from his gums; and well aware that he was giving himself over to the cravings, a lone tear fell from his eyes before they turned into deep, black pools of nothingness.

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><p><em>We'll meet Elena in Chapter 3 and Chapter 2 will be filled with flashbacks of what Damon's been up to for the past 145 years.<em>

_I got the inspiration for the 'Home'-centric feel of the story from a Youtube video: "**Damon&Elena [Twin Flames]**" by **Helsinkimianus **(Watch it at **.com/watch?v=6e0P_a-AudQ**)_

_I also got really into the feel of the story watching the VD episode **1.06 - Lost Girls **and **2.15 - The Dinner Party**_

_**FOLLOW, FAVORITE, REVIEW! :)  
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	2. Chapter 2: Burning Daylight

**CHAPTER 2: BURNING DAYLIGHT**

Damon was never the same after that day. He did unforgivable things because blood was his first and often his _only_ priority. But there was also something new and different about the icy blue of his eyes. Behind them now was a faint light, a twinge of hope that wasn't there before.

His frozen heart craved the kind of warmth only _her_ hazel eyes could radiate. So from that day onwards, Damon learned how to lock a gaze. He looked into the eyes of every single person he encountered in his desperate search, in hopes that one day, he'd find her - the woman who'd changed him forever.

**1865**

Damon spent year after year trying to adjust to this new way of living but sadly life, as we all know, stops for no one. Life simply went on around him, forcing him to keep up with its pace. The only thing it never did, was get any easier.

_'I __**must**__ look appropriate.'_ The thought ran through his mind as he donned his gray breeches and buttoned his beige waistcoat. Choosing an elegant silver tie, he neatly tucked it underneath his collar. That day, there was something he just needed to do. _'Perhaps it's the only way my mind can be put to ease.'_

The gravel crunched beneath his feet when he got down from the carriage. His palms were sweating; his hands were balled into fists by his sides. He closed his eyes and exhaled.

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><p><em>-1863 Flashback-<br>Damon's head whipped towards the sound of an agonized cry. He narrowed his eyes to see, through the smoke, Union soldiers torturing a poor man. The man was a bodyservant, one of the few African Americans left to provide slave labor for Southern forces. He was frail from not having eaten meat in weeks; all the Confederates were. Damon's knuckles turned white as he watched a federal snatch the worn, wool hat from the man's head, throw it on the ground, and spit on it. The others just laughed. War had left Damon a traumatized man, but his integrity was still somewhat intact._

Ignoring the_ General Officer__'s command to retreat, Damon found himself beating the Union soldiers to a pulp. He swung his fists in blind fury._

His chest rose and fell as he surveyed the three men that lay unconscious on the ground. To his left, Damon saw the colored confederate, his head between his knees, trembling. He'd already started towards him but then he heard shallow breathing from one of the Union soldiers on the ground. The federal's face was badly bruised and he seemed to be hanging onto life by a thread.

"_Have mercy__," he begged as he saw Damon's gaze land on him. Though his own irises were cold as ice, Damon would __**never**__ forget the bleak teal of the man's eyes as he plunged the spear of his bayonet deep into the federal's chest._

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><p>Damon's head hung low, his feet, wrapped in fog, as he sought the right gravestone. He felt as if everything was falling apart.<p>

A lock of hair fell over his forehead. His gaze fell to the inscription on the marble gray. His heart fell at the last word.

_In memory of  
>BENJAMIN HILL<br>1843 - 1863  
>Valiant soldier<br>Devoted husband  
>Loving father<em>

Then Damon fell to his knees on the damp grass, a broken man.

He stared at the wall of his quarters numbly. When he caught his own reflection in the full-length mirror, he _had _to look away. He hated what he saw. The brief pang of pain, from his fist smashing the glass, was the last thing he felt before he flipped the switch to his emotions. He stared at the shattered mess on the floor. There was no one there to pick up the pieces.

_"I can't go home,"_ he murmured, his eyes downcast, _"I don't deserve to."_

**1995; Cape Cod, Massachusetts**

The cool breeze hit Damon's face as he drove leisurely through the sleepy town. He was definitely turning heads with the top down on his '67 Chevy Camaro. He was a vision in black, the sunlight glinting off his leather jacket. Each and every woman he passed by directed their gaze at him. He smirked and looked up from his aviators, soaking up the attention.

He drove to the desolate dunes by the shore, got out of his convertible and deeply inhaled the salty air. His sensitive hearing picked up a lot; the noisy seagulls in the distance, the crash of waves on the shore, and - he was in luck - the musical laughter of two girls nearby. His lips turned up at a corner, his eyes immediately darkening with desire.

They gasped, startled, as he appeared in front of them with vampiric speed. He enjoyed scaring them first, it got their blood flowing. Before they even had a chance to scream his fangs had pierced the blonde's neck. He watched as the life escaped her amber irises. He licked the blood off his lips before he sped to the hysterical brunette, tears streaming down her cheeks. He chuckled at her feeble attempt to run.

His eyes locked with hers as his pupils dilated. _"Don't move,"_ he commanded in a husky voice. He circled her, noticing how her breathing hitched and her rosy cheeks paled. She was in complete shock. _"Are you afraid?"_ he asked, standing behind her, his hands on her shoulders. She hesitantly nodded in response. _"Good,"_he quipped, blood vessels lining tracks beneath his eyes. Her bloodcurdling scream was replaced by dead silence as her lifeless body hit the dry sand.

**2005; New York**

Outside, the snow softly fell, blanketing the ground in a white haze. It was the early hours of the morning and there wasn't a soul on the city streets. But even through the dusty bar window, Damon could see the blur of colorful lights hanging from the street lamps.

The sleazy joint was nearly empty with the exception of a drunk passed out on the floor and a seemingly inebriated man in the corner. He wore a sharp suit but his head was buried in his hands. Damon slouched in his bar stool, swirling the golden liquid - his usual brand of Scotch - around in its glass.

The bartender, who'd been busy cleaning the counter with a dirty rag, stopped to look up at him. _"It's Christmas morning, son. Young lad like ya would prolly have somewhere to be."_ Damon replied with a languid, _"Nope," _pushing his glass towards the man for yet another refill. The old-timer just shook his head and filled the glass for the eighth time that night. Damon didn't care the slightest bit for "Christmas". He'd spent one-too-many alone, ergo the word "merry" was no longer in his vocabulary.

He was too preoccupied with his drink to turn his head when the bell above the bar door jingled. A frazzled woman in knee-high boots and a faux fur coat took the seat next to him, slapping her purse onto the counter.

She looked Latina. _"The usual,"_ she slurred. She_ sounded_ Latina. She turned her head towards him. _"Hey there, gorgeous."_ Damon acknowledged her with the slight tip of his head. _"You single, baby?" _she purred with half-lidded, earthy brown eyes.

A lopsided smile formed on his lips, _"Still haven't found the right one."_

She woke up the next morning in a seedy motel with dried blood on her neck and no memory of that night whatsoever.

_He _was long gone.

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><p><em>NA: Damon felt so much guilt for what he did to the Union soldier because it was his first brutal kill. Moreover, he found out he didn't only have the blood of a man on his hands, but the blood of a father whose child would NEVER see him again. For him, that hit home pretty hard._

_"There's only so much hurt a man can take." - Damon Salvatore; Unable to bear the guilt, he chose to go the easy road, turning his emotions off for good._

_Tune in for Chapter 3, there'll be some sweet D/E going on in there!  
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__**FOLLOW, FAVORITE, REVIEW! :)**_  
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